✔️ Country Music Princess

✔️ Drama, drama, drama

✔️ Family Saga

✔️ Small Town

Seven Years Ago 

Cheyenne Montgomery was nervous. As much as, if not more than, the last time she’d played in a small backwoods redneck bar, just a couple of months earlier. At eighteen, barely six months out of high school, it wasn’t easy for her to get onto the stage, something she’d learned through a lot of hard work and repeated rejection at an early age. In fact, it was usually downright impossible. But the rather unruly owner of this little hole in the wall had been willing to give her a chance and here she was. 

“Hey, y’all. My name’s . . . uh . . . Cheyenne. Cheyenne Montgomery. Thanks for . . . um . . . thanks for having me.” 

“Come on, sweet cheeks. Get on with it!” someone hollered from the crowd. 

Nodding, Cheyenne swallowed hard. After making her introduction to the crowd, albeit timidly, Cheyenne launched right into her first song. She’d taken to playing covers of incredible artists like Faith Hill, Miranda Lambert, and even Reba McEntire. Not because people had told her that she sounded like them, but because they were her favorites. The band accompanying her—the only people who’d been half-ass nice to her since she arrived—was brilliant and she was grateful to them for agreeing to back her up tonight. She was doing this for free, which meant they were, too. Well, technically, she guessed they were all doing it for their joint love of music. 

When she finished her first song, Cheyenne glanced out at the scattered faces in front of her, forcing her smile to stay on her lips. Her hands were shaking and she was sure if anyone in the threadbare crowd looked close enough, they’d notice. Not that she had to worry about that. No one seemed to be paying her much attention, which wasn’t all that surprising. At the little dives like this one, she didn’t generally see much interest in what she did. Well, except for one drunk old guy . . . 

“Hey, honey! When you’re done up there, why don’t you come sit on my lap?” 

Cheyenne ignored the man. He’d been yelling obscene suggestions at her since the second she came up onstage. During one of her songs, he’d even been taunting her. It didn’t look as though he intended to stop any time in the near future, either. ​

​Jumping right into the next song in her set, Cheyenne gave her all, blocking out everyone and everything around her, falling right into the music. The two spotlights, awkwardly aimed at her head, made it nearly impossible to see the faces of the people in the bar, which allowed her more opportunity to get lost in her own little world for a while. So, that was exactly what she did. 

After the fifth song, Cheyenne and the band took a quick break. She wasn’t allowed to go to the bar, so she graciously accepted a bottle of water when the drummer—she wasn’t sure what his name was and she was too nervous to ask—